


Hunger Pains

by inksheddings



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not an empty stomach that's brought Tony to Gibbs' kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger Pains

It wasn't the sort of bar Tony had ever gone to when he'd been in the mood for female companionship. It wasn't really a bar anyway, but a Bar & Grille (fancy schmancy "e" on the end and everything). And he hadn't actually gone in looking for a woman, just a beer-and-sandwich dinner, but he'd walked out with one anyway.

Marisa was an accountant with a dry sense of humor, a crooked smile, and curves that Tony would appreciate far more if he could put his hands on them. And therein lay the problem. Going back to his own place with a one-night stand wasn't anything Tony had ever done or would ever do. It made escape routes problematic, so in the past he'd always managed to get himself invited over to the woman's place. But, apparently, inviting a stranger over wasn't something Marisa was comfortable with either. So they stood awkwardly outside the bar (and grille), Marisa biting her lower lip prettily and Tony running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Well, maybe I am getting a bit too old for this sort of thing," Marisa said as she pulled Tony's hand out of his hair and squeezed it affectionately.

Tony knew he should say something about how Marisa wasn't anywhere near old--and, really, she wasn't--but Tony knew, for an unfortunate fact, that he was too old for this sort of thing. So he just kissed her cheek and walked her to her car, not at all sure how he felt about the fact that he wasn't in the least tempted to ask for her phone number.

Tony was even less sure how he felt about driving to Gibbs' home instead of his own. He couldn't even claim that he didn't realize where he'd been heading until he got there; that it was some bizarre form of automatic pilot he could blame on too little sleep and too much caffeine. It was just where he wanted to go.

Standing at the front door, however, Tony debated whether he should knock or simply go inside. Normally, he'd walk in loudly enough that Gibbs would have no doubt as to who was making himself at home. Tonight, somehow, felt different. Still, Tony had made the choice to come here so he might as well follow through.

Gibbs was in the kitchen, mixing eggs in a bowl. Green onions, mushrooms, and ham were set out on the counter so Tony took a knife out of the drawer and started chopping.

"Hungry?" Gibbs asked, the only greeting Tony knew he'd get.

Tony's mind flashed on Marisa's crooked smile. "I almost got laid tonight."

The whisk in Gibbs' hand stuttered ever so slightly, but the eggs looked ready for the pan anyway.

"What, you'd rather have an omelette?" Gibbs asked, pouring the eggs slowly into the pan.

"Apparently so." Tony handed Gibbs the plateful of chopped ingredients, nearly dropping it when he met Gibbs' assessing gaze. Tony was used to Gibbs staring and glaring at him--Tony worked hard enough to garner that attention, after all--but this particular look was not one Tony remembered encountering before. The hint of confusion in Gibbs' eyes was unsettling, to say the least. Tony had enough confusion of his own, thank you very much. He wasn't sure whether he should break the eye contact or not, but Gibbs made the choice for him by turning his attention back to the stove.

"You'd better scramble up a couple more eggs then," Gibbs said as he started adding in the onion, ham, and mushrooms.

The sandwich Tony had eaten earlier sat heavy in his stomach. The smell of eggs was suddenly overwhelming and nothing close to what he wanted.

"I'm not hungry."

Which was a lie, just not in the obvious sense. Gibbs, however, looked back at Tony like it was the most obvious lie in the history of lying liars who lie. But then he kept on making that fucking omelette with the sort of care and attention Tony couldn't remember anyone ever giving to him--except for Jeanne, but he wasn't about to let himself remember that, not here and certainly not now, with Gibbs and eggs and the fact that he'd almost gotten laid tonight already filling up his senses.

"Go home, Tony."

Gibbs didn't sound confused or pissed off or any of the things Tony might have expected. And Tony might have listened to him, followed orders and headed out, except that--despite the fact that Gibbs was folding his omelette perfectly--he didn't sound all that hungry either.

Tony reached between Gibbs and the stove, turned off the flame, and pushed the pan to an empty back burner. "I think I am home," Tony said, fully aware that, just like driving over here in the first place, he couldn't blame his words on having no clue where he was heading.

Tony counted to 67 before Gibbs finally shut off the stove's overhead light and placed his hand on the small of Tony's back. "Omelettes for breakfast, then?"

The clench in Tony's stomach eased as he leaned against Gibbs, relaxed even more when Gibbs turned him around and backed him up against the counter. Tony went with it, figuring that hunger was unlikely to be one of their issues for a long, long time to come.

 

 **end**


End file.
